Amend
by DreamEscape1675
Summary: Despite their differences; Steve and Tony somehow manage to share a drink together as they repair old wounds.


**Amend**

**Disclaimer: All characters of Captain America and Iron Man belong to Marvel Comics**

* * *

"You misplaced my shield?" Steve half-growled, stiffening his jaw. "That shield is one of a kind."

Of course this was Tony Stark, and the billionaire playboy didn't understand the value of sentimental weapons, especially when they were forged by the hands of the late Howard Stark. Stark just didn't understand how important that shield was to the noble Captain America who stood leaning against the doorway at the entrance of his lab. There had been a fine-line between Steve's strict code of ethics and sainthood morals.

He was a symbol of patriotism, reliance, unyielding hope, and valor. His uniform—or circus suit in the words of Clint Barton—bore the vibrant colors of red, white and blue. A star was in the dead center of his solid chest. But the semblance of the timeless war hero faded the moment his full lips curved upward into a displeased scowl; his cut-stone features sharped and his crystal blue eyes became translucent as steel.

It was intimidating.

The young—ninety-five year old—captain crossed his broad arms over his solid chest and leveled Stark with a fathomless glower.

"I know you think it's amusing, but my shield is important when it comes to protecting lives, Stark." Steve digressed, his nostrils flaring and his upper lip twitching as he watched the billionaire retract the face plate to his Iron Man from where he stood in front a cluttered table. "When are you going to grow up, Stark, and act your age?"

"What, you mean like you, Steve?" Tony snapped back, his dark hazel eyes leveled with the captain; his handsome and suave features darkened with a shadow of vehemence. "If it wasn't for my dad's technology you would be on ice—" He inched closer, taking haughty steps with the echoes of his metal boots clanging on the floor. He stood his ground and looked up at the super-solider. "You think you're special because you have extra big muscles—let's face it Rogers, everything that made you the ultimate poster boy for the American military came out of nothing but a serum. You were just a sick little orphan who couldn't even be recruited for the Girl Guides."

Steve shook his head, and gave Stark a dissatisfied frown; his full lips upturned as he sighed. He felt a dull pang vibrate within the firm muscles of his chest, but still his body rejected the lingering pain of his stolen past even though his shoulders were weighed with heavy burdens. "I thought you were a better man than this, Stark," he discharged with a broken voice and tore his eyes away from the raven haired billionaire. "Your father was a good man—I know you don't believe that, but it's the truth." He added, before turning around for the door. "And somewhere underneath that armor of yours, you are too."

"My father pretended like I didn't even exist." Tony echoed back, narrowing his eyes at the floor. "Christmas was the only time I got to sit down with him and talk about something other than Stark Industries...or Captain America. Howard Stark cared more about swimsuit pool parties than my own birthday—"

"Your father loved you," Steve was honest, he glanced over his shoulder. "I know it seemed like he didn't care, but he did, Tony…You were his greatest creation that didn't come from a bottle."

"How would you know that Cap?" Tony shot back. "I wasn't exactly around during your time."

"Peggy told me," Steve revealed, "She and Howard were close and she has information if you're ready to listen…"

"I suppose she likes flowers," Tony said under his breath, feeling Steve's intense gaze penetrate deep into his skull. He metallic fingers ran through his dark messy askew strands, brushing off the tendrils of sweat from his gleaming forehead. "I'm not sure I can handle my past—I've tried to bury it for almost my whole life. I'm not the best listener."

Steve faintly smirked. "I know," he drawled, crossing his solid arms.

"Well, we can't all be Captain Perfect," Tony retorted back, his metallic hand reaching for a half-empty bottle of whiskey. "Tell me this, why did that German scientist, or whatever he was called, pick a shrimp like you to become America's favorite flag boy?" he inquisitively, all the while Steve looked a little taken back. Tony twisted the top off the bottle and poured the contents into a shot glass. "I read your SSR files and I mean let's face—it you weren't qualified to even hold a gun."

"Is this why you hid my shield? To get answers by breaking down the details written on paper?" Steve leveled his piercing light blue eyes at Tony. "It doesn't take much to become a soldier, Stark; just a bit courage and heart. I might have not been the best guy for the job, but I wanted a chance to give people back their freedom. I paid a great price when I put on the uniform. I lost a lot of good and honorable men; some I would gladly consider my brothers." He narrowed his eyes, feeling a sharp pang of regret in his chest. "The shield isn't a trash can lid that I use to bash the bullies on the head with, its a symbol; one I use to protect lives, and it's a part of me just like your armored suits are apart of you."

Tony rolled out a chair from the desk, and sat down, his armor clanging against the steel. He lifted his glass, and gave Steve a bitter smile. "Your shield needed to have a few dents and scratches removed. I took the liberty." Steve arched an eyebrow and Tony rolled his eyes. "Yes, I finally used a word from your dictionary of patriotism, Rogers." He drained the glass in a matter of two seconds and looked up at the super-soldier towering in front of him. "Do you want to sit down, or are you worried your old bones will finally glue you to a chair?"

Steve smirked genuinely, "I like to always be on my guard," he said, stealing a glance at the whiskey bottle. "Besides, if I sit down I'm afraid I might get too comfortable and decide to retire."

"How come every time you say something ridiculous you always look at my drink, Rogers?"

"I haven't sipped whiskey in a long time. I forget what it tastes like..." he admitted, his expression sincere.

Tony pursed his lips at the gravity of nonchalance in Steve's voice. He then pulled out a drawer, grabbed another shot glass, and then poured the whiskey. "I think you deserve to have a drink, Cap, since it's long overdue... Besides, Pepper won't harp on me that much if she knows it wasn't me that emptied the bottle." He smiled, cheekily, and slid the glass to Steve.

Steve looked at the glass with unease in his eyes. "I'll have a drink, if you promise that you'll visit Peggy Carter." He spoke firmly, watching Tony give him a small nod in response. "Just a fair warning, I don't get drunk...My super-altered metabolism just burns off the alcohol. If you want I can finish the bottle with you?"

"I'll get your old girl a box of chocolates, the really good kind,"

Steve nodded in return. He tilted his head back and took a long sip as he felt the whiskey slide and burn his throat. It almost tasted like a candied cinnamon heart; same spicy aftertaste. He placed the glass down, and took a moment to collect his thoughts while sucking back a deep breath to cool his scorched insides. "So when will I have my shield back?" He asked, pressing his lips together while staring with his intent blue eyes at the whiskey being once again poured into his glass.

"Since you asked so nicely," Tony put down the bottle, and slid causally off the chair. He then crouched to his knees and lifted the shield from beneath the desk. "I made a few modifications to your weaponry, more high tech, instead of those leather straps. You have magnets that will attach to your uniform's gloves, the shield will stick to you like glue. I wanted to make you a force field, but I figured that wasn't your style."

Steve traced his gloved fingers along the surface of the vibranium-alloyed shield then gave Tony a smile of gratitude. "Thank you, Tony," he whispered. "I guess it's time for me to start getting used to the new ways."

Tony shrugged. "If you want I can have Pepper give you a list of a few good tailors that I know since your clothes are so outdated."

Steve shook his head, "I like my style, and it makes me feel like I'm still a part of the olden days when everything didn't revolve around technology."

"Yeah, but technology has saved a lot of lives, like that day Loki decided to have a huge party at the center of the city." Tony reminded him.

Steve drained the glass, "It took a lot of guts to do what you did for us, Tony." He said with admirable in his voice. "Your father would be proud of you... You're a hero."

Tony narrowed his eyes, tilting the glass in his hand. "Let's keep this between us, Spangles." He replied, handing Steve the bottle. "We both know you're good at keeping secrets."

"Only the ones that matter," Steve echoed back in a low voice, filling his glass and then holding it up for a toast. "Let's make a toast; for being soldiers in our own life's battles."

"Yeah, we're soldiers," Tony agreed, then clanged his glass with Steve's. "Heroes until the day we die..."

"Friends..." the super-soldier affirmed soothingly with a resolute voice that pulled on the heart strings. "...until the end of line."

Tony gulped down his drink and then leaned back into the chair, smiling to himself as he watched Steve's blue eyes shine against the light. He knew that those words coming from the noble captain were a promise.

It felt good to have someone help him through his own life's battles. In a way, Steve had saved him from slipping back into the void of regret.


End file.
